News of Home
by msathenaxf
Summary: The Flying Dutchman takes on a crew member who sailed with the Pirate King. Spoilers for AWE.
1. News of Home

So, I've been politely scolded by readers of the first story, News of Home. I never really thought of these stories as chapters in a larger story, but more as oneshots from the same universe. I, however, was wrong. I have received a few messages from people who wanted to see the story continued, were to be alerted to the fact, but because I didn't post them as new chapters, they had no idea they were out there. So, I am very, very sorry to all of those who were waiting. And **incredibly grateful** that there are people out there who liked it enough to be want to be alerted, and who were so interested, that they got mad at me for messing it up. Thank you all very much for telling me you like the work.

I apologize for reposting these, (if you're looking to see if they are any different than the first posting, they're not). I have left everything the same, except for this intro.

* * *

I was left with way too many questions at the very end of AWE regarding my favorite couple. I didn't like the idea of father and son not knowing each other, particularly Will not knowing _of_ him, and so I've decided to remedy that. I'm generally not very good at dialogue; this piece proves it. Thanks for reading, though. 

**News of Home**

It had been just over five years since William Turner became captain of the Flying Dutchman. His original crew, including his father, had left the ship, to be ferried themselves to the world beyond. They had atoned for their sins.

He had just taken on a new crew member, an old English pirate sailing in Singapore. Trying hard to hide his curiosity, Will had handed him over to his crew, who would give him berth and drink. His crew was always excited to bring on a new sailor; it meant news of the world.

The world they left behind.

Will rarely joined in the nighttime gatherings where information was pried from the newly dead. It was still painful for him to hear news of that life and it would not do for his crew to see him weak. The Dutchman's job was not an easy one and the crew needed all of the strength they could get from their captain.

Tonight, though, he left the hatch open as he sat on deck. He eavesdropped on the party downstairs, hoping against hope to hear news of those he knew.

"And how do you come to be here, friend?" one of his more experienced officers asked.

"I died protecting my captain," he replied. The crew laughed. It was not uncommon for the newly dead to make their deaths nobler than they actually were.

"Then tell us the story, man! It is always good to hear about good men."

"There is nothing to tell," he said simply. "A stowaway tried to shoot the captain. I got in the way."

"There must be more," the crew insisted. Grandiose stories were almost as good as the pirate stories they had heard in their youth, or, in some cases, lived through themselves.

"A man had hidden himself on the ship at our last port stop. He had a crazy plan. Crazy. He was crazy. He's probably already passed through here. The Pirate King doesn't waste time with this type of threat."

On deck, Will's breath caught in his throat. Could it be possible?

"Our stowaway tried to kill the son of the Pirate King. And, I imagine, the Pirate King killed him."

Will felt his stomach clench with pain. Either his Elizabeth no longer held the grand position or…or she had moved on without him. Either way, nothing about this story was going to make Will feel any better about his situation. There would either be no news, or bad news.

This was exactly why he never tried to learn of the other world.

The men down below had collectively taken a huge breath. Most of them had been sailors in life; they knew the stories of the Pirate King. To threaten the boy was madness and suicide.

The crew's curiosity got the better of them. As interesting as death tales could be, the Pirate King was a much better story. They called out questions all at once.

"And what of the King? Is it true that you would sail the seas to scavenge the dead?"

"They say that the King never fires on another ship. What type of pirate is that?"

"Does she still take on the likes of Jack Sparrow?"

Will bowed his head. It was Elizabeth, then. He hoped she had been able to lead a normal, safe life.

He hoped she would have waited for him. But she had a son…she sailed with Jack. It was a disgusting thought, but one he couldn't deny.

And, if he was honest, one he couldn't blame her for.

Below him, the pirate's voice rose over the din. "The King is a great pirate and the Empress a great pirate ship. She never needs to fire; she always has a plan to get what she needs with little mess. And, I might add, when we don't fire, we don't get fired upon. The King has lost very little of her crew since she began to sail."

"She lost you, though," a laughing voice sounded from the back of the crowd.

"Yes. She learned his intentions and ran him through without a second thought. It was in his last breaths that he tried to shoot her with a guard's gun."

Will's fists clenched. Whatever her current life, the thought of Elizabeth in danger made him furious and terrified at once. One of his greatest fears was to one day see her among the souls he was meant to lead.

Suddenly, the man below laughed. "And, would you know it, that little boy came running out from behind the barley barrels, all spit and fire. All three feet of him ran up to the killer and kicked him in the leg saying, 'My mum killed you and my dad's gonna send you to Hell.' It was the last thing I saw with living eyes."

Here the man fell silent, reflecting on all he had left behind. Bringing himself back to reality, he said, "That boy's gonna get punished bad for hiding out, I can tell you that. And even worse for the language."

The men around him laughed. "But the King?" someone asked again. "Is she really all they say?"

"King is nothing more than a title and she's the first to tell you that. But my captain…my captain is all they say the King is."

Will smiled. She could never be anything less than royal, he knew.

The men were breaking up their party. It was late, with long work ahead of them tomorrow. They had years to listen to the stories this man could tell about pirating with the King. And the ones of Sparrow would probably be amusing, if completely unbelievable.

As usual, the new crew member was the last to leave. On the first night, they usually tried to stave off sleep for as long as possible. Going to sleep meant waking up. And waking up meant realizing that none of this was a dream.

Will sat, staring up at the sky. The news of Elizabeth both relieved him and devastated him. He had truly thought she would wait for him to return.

Footsteps sounded below him, as someone climbed on to the deck. He turned to see his newest sailor.

The man looked at him and acknowledged him with a nod. Then he looked again. Realization dawned on his face.

"You know, the King said the strangest thing to me as I drifted away. She whispered in my ear, 'Tell my husband to drop me a line sometime."

Will started violently and stared at this new crew member. The man smiled. "We sail to every great battle, every great storm. Any place where there are sure to be deaths on the sea. The King never says why, but we of course wonder. Some say she's a scavenger, but, personally, I think she's a searcher. She's looking for something."

The man stopped, looking at Will again. "We've all heard crazy Jack's stories of the other side of the sun. I've always blamed the rum. But now that I'm here, I wonder. What happens to things under the water at sunset? Can they get back, like Jack did?"

Will could do nothing but stare, fists clenched, breathing deeply. His sailor gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"And damned if your eyes aren't just like the boy's."

Will's hands shook and he paled. The man shook his head, bemused, as if he had finally gotten a joke too late. "She always said the boy had his father's eyes."

* * *

The Empress cut through the debris of the latest shipwreck. However, Elizabeth was paying no attention to what was left of the vessel. Her crew would take what they needed from the ship's supplies.

But she wasn't here for supplies. She was never here for supplies.

Her son stood tiptoe at the helm, gazing over the water. His mum always told him to help her keep watch, but he never knew what he was watching for. Mum just said that he would know it when he saw it.

And, there below him, a wooden box suddenly popped up from underneath the water, landing with a small splash. He laughed in delight and called his mom over. They definitely should keep this one; it had his initials on it!

He didn't understand why she was crying when she opened the box. It was a great sword. Cap'n Jack said it had gold filigree inlaid in the handle.


	2. Steel Threads

So, I've been politely scolded by readers of the first story, News of Home. I never really thought of these stories as chapters in a larger story, but more as oneshots from the same universe. I, however, was wrong. I have received a few messages from people who wanted to see the story continued, were to be alerted to the fact, but because I didn't post them as new chapters, they had no idea they were out there. So, I am very, very sorry to all of those who were waiting. And **incredibly grateful** that there are people out there who liked it enough to be want to be alerted, and who were so interested, that they got mad at me for messing it up. Thank you all very much for telling me you like the work.

I apologize for reposting these, (if you're looking to see if they are any different than the first posting, they're not). I have left everything the same, except for this intro.

* * *

Hello, everybody. This is a companion piece to a story I posted a little ways back, titled News of Home. I like that one better, but this wouldn't leave me alone, so now it's here.

Also, a huge, huge thanks to everyone who took the time to review my two earlier stories.

**Steel Threads**

Everyday for four years I've carried this sword. I've used it in battle, used it for safety and for reassurance.

It has been a part of the lives of all the great men I've known: it was commissioned by my father, given to a friend and crafted by my love. The sword was stolen, as were their lives.

I hated it, at first. Hated that it was on my ship, loathed the very sight of it. It was horrible to me that Will would send it here, that it would be his first message. How could he possibly think I would take any type of comfort from it?

But I never let go of it.

Over time, I realized that it was much more than the hated weapon of my nightmares. It was forged by my husband and, yes, used to kill him. But, in his later life, his after life, it was his sword to wield. He knew every nuance of the handle, every shift in weight. He was its creator and, in a way, it was more a part of him than of James, who carried it for three years.

It represented strength, stability and honor to both my father and James. It represented hard work and skill to my husband.

It was almost everything to me.

It hasn't left my side and has never been brandished by another since our son first spotted it in the ocean. Until today.

Our son is nearly nine and looks more like his father every day. I am constantly reminded of the boy who was rescued from the sea so many years ago. His laugh, his movements, his smile and especially his eyes, are all Will's.

He has seen blood, seen swords clash and cannons fire. But on my orders he has never been pressed to service. And, for good or bad, my reputation when it comes to our son has all but assured his safety at an enemy's hands. I am the Pirate King, after all. And, everyone knows that his father can mete out a punishment worse than death by his old sword.

However, the last time we ran into Jack, he mentioned that sword fighting is more than a survival skill. It is an art, a craft. I have never thought of it that way. Swords have always been for protection.

Jack also mentioned that Will could handle a sword better than most soldiers. Or pirates, for that matter.

I suppose the decision to pass the sword to our son was made on that day. So, this morning, in the privacy of my cabin, I told him the story of the sword. It is a story he has heard many times, but today I tried imprint upon him the magnitude of responsibility that came with carrying a sword with such a history. He now represented all the great men who carried it before him. He very graciously listened to me drone on about family and honor and hard work. He was adamant about carrying it by his side, although he was too small to wield it. He wanted to look the part of the pirate. I am not sure he understood or cared about all I was trying to tell him.

But he insisted that only his father would teach him how to use it. Next year.


	3. Loyalty Down, Loyalty Up

So, I've been politely scolded by readers of the first story, News of Home. I never really thought of these stories as chapters in a larger story, but more as oneshots from the same universe. I, however, was wrong. I have received a few messages from people who wanted to see the story continued, were to be alerted to the fact, but because I didn't post them as new chapters, they had no idea they were out there. So, I am very, very sorry to all of those who were waiting. And **incredibly grateful** that there are people out there who liked it enough to be want to be alerted, and who were so interested, that they got mad at me for messing it up. Thank you all very much for telling me you like the work.

I apologize for reposting these, (if you're looking to see if they are any different than the first posting, they're not). I have left everything the same, except for this intro.

* * *

This is another companion to my story News of Home. It wasn't meant to be written but was actually inspired by a comment I received in a review, about Elizabeth and her crew. (Thanks, littlelights!). Throughout the two earlier stories, I did have an idea of what Elizabeth relationship with the crew was, but it didn't occur to me to flesh that out. So, this is my attempt to do that.

And, again, a very heartfelt thanks to everyone who has sent me feedback. It is so appreciated. Thank you so much.

_Loyalty Down Fosters Loyalty Up – Anonymous_

**Loyalty Down, Loyalty Up**

She had been on the beach for two days when the Empress arrived. Hungry, dirty, and, more than anything, miserable, she had done nothing but sit in the sand and watch the waves, waiting for sunset. On that last morning Elizabeth had resigned herself to the fact that she had to either die there, or begin the hike to the town on the other side of the cliff wall.

Dying was looking uncommonly appealing.

However, a little row boat landed in the sand that morning, carrying just the Empress' first mate. He jumped out, very matter-of-fact, and ushered her into the boat. When pressed, he simply said that he was there to get his captain.

They were silent for most of the trip back to the Empress. The only thing he said: "Our captain stays with her crew and her crew stays with their captain."

She decided that, pirates or no, they were good men.

Once on board, she was ushered into Sao-Feng's old cabin. Elizabeth cleaned up the best she could and changed into the clothes that had been set aside, leftover from her first adventure there. She did, however, add pants.

Elizabeth was no idiot—a year or two bumming around on pirate ships does not make you a sailor. She was careful not to tell them their business when it came to the sails or the rigging--but they always looked to her for the heading. They knew how to handle the ship and she knew how to lead them.

They were somewhere near Africa when the hurricane hit. The Empress held up, but two of the crew was lost in the waves. Elizabeth did her best to help, although most of the time she was in the way. Despite that, she gained a little more respect from the men. They were grateful for her faith in them to bring them through and awed by her willingness to get her hands dirty.

Obviously, they had not sailed with Elizabeth Turner for long.

The next few days were spent in repair and memorial for the two lost men. It was then that her decision was made. If Jack Sparrow could sack forts without firing a single shot, certainly she could do the same. She had spent most of her youth dreaming up schemes to trick her father into giving her her way, whether it was a new dress or a day of skipped lessons. On more than one occasion she had evaded every servant under orders to watch her and snuck into town.

She tried not to think about those afternoons at the blacksmith shop.

She had to have enough cunning to manage a life of crime. She felt she had done pretty well, so far, even on a few occasions outwitting legends like Jack and Barbossa. She could do this; she could be a great pirate and not lose the crew.

And so it began. Planning and plotting replaced the cannons and gunfire. They had enough money to buy favors in a lot of ports—Sao-Feng was a great pirate, after all. And they made quite a profit in supplies and goods. It was soon after the first success that Elizabeth realized she was with child.

She managed to keep it a secret for as long as possible. She continued to work the ship and plan the assaults. Finally, she admitted that there was no way around it—she couldn't hide it anymore. She and the first mate decided that it was no longer safe, or suitable to stay on board. With a heavy heart, she told him to bring her back to the island—their island. A pirate's life was no longer for her.

Twelve months later, while walking around her house, carrying a fussy nine-month-old in her arms, the maid came rushing in from town. She told her mistress that the Pirate King's ship was at port. The entire unlawful town was aflutter. What a treat to this humdrum place with just ordinary bandits running about!

Not long after, she re-boarded her ship, watching the already toddling boy grow accustomed to the rock of the boat. Her crew had spent the year in Singapore with their families, following her advice to lay low. When the wind turned, they returned to retrieve their captain once more.

Good men, all of them.

And so it began. Nine months at sea, three on their island. She planned raids while teaching her son to add and subtract. At two, he learned to swim in the shores of Spain. The crew taught him to read the stars and predict the weather with the colors of the sky and sea. Everyday Elizabeth was reminded of the young boy she helped rescue from the ocean so many years ago. Will's son looked just like him—especially his eyes.

Everyday, usually more than once, she would tell him a story about his father. She explained to him why his father couldn't be with them yet. Elizabeth told him stories of daring rescues and exciting swordfights. "Your father is a hero," she would tell him.

She also made sure to tell the tales of her youth, a youth before pirates. Her son was just as enraptured with the tales about their lives in Port Royal as he was with the stories of the Pearl. He loved to hear about the foot races in the sand and their explorations of Port Royal. She told him how after her coming-out, Will had to stop calling her by her first name. "At least he thought so," she said with a wistful smile. And at every port stop, he would insist that his mother take him to the local blacksmith shop. He would ask her if the work was as good as his father's.

Of course it never quite lived up.

Also, Elizabeth wrote in a journal nearly every day. She didn't want Will to miss out on any more than he had already. She wrote of the day their son tried to climb the mast and by a sheer miracle landed in the water rather than on the deck. She told him about the crew teaching him swear words and the punishments meted out to all parties—including the junior pirate in their midst. Elizabeth wrote about how excited he was to meet his father, how he would ask questions and request stories every day, no matter how old he grew. She told him about the trips to the blacksmith shops and how much he looked just like his father.

When she had been back on the Empress for two years, she decided to begin her search. The more she thought of it, the more plausible it seemed. The Pearl had crossed from one world into another; why couldn't something else? There was no way to contact her husband, but surely he could reach out to her. If she sailed to those places where the Dutchman was sure to be, then eventually she would find a sign from Will. Elizabeth was sure of it.

Her sign eventually came in the shape of a sword. Her son spotted it floating in a box among the wreckage of a ship; Elizabeth grinned ear to ear when she saw the III inscribed in the wood, right after the initials W.T.

The years passed. Jack occasionally joined them, whenever his ship had been stolen out from under him. And Barbossa joined them whenever Jack stole it back. She refused to choose sides in the never-ending debate but welcomed them both with open arms and a wary mindset.

The pirate lords met in Singapore once every two years; she made sure to call councils more often than once a lifetime. She knew better than anyone what the British Navy was capable of and she knew that the pirate's life continued to be in danger. They discussed options, ways to prolong the freedom that came with this life. However, they all knew that their plans were nothing more than a temporary bandage. Although, with that sad thought came the pride of being the last of their kind. Even soldiers didn't live by honorable codes these days; it was a good legacy to leave behind.

In year nine, when the Empress returned them to their island, Elizabeth knew it would be the last time. She handed the Empress over to the control of the first mate. He had stood by her all these years and had been her most loyal companion. Despite her willingness to work, her trust in his judgment, her dedication to the welfare of the crew, and her overall good humor, Elizabeth never quite understood how she inspired such fidelity.

He just smiled and said that she stayed with her crew, and her crew would stay with her. And if the Pirate King, for that is what she would remain, ever needed their aid, he would return as quickly as he was able.

The boy passed among the crew, saying his tearful good-byes. However, he knew that it was time to begin a new life. He looked forward to showing his father all he had learned on the Empress. They would live in their island house and their maid would cook all of his father's favorite foods and his father would teach him to swordfight.

And, if they ever tired of life on land, he knew that they had more than enough money to sail the seas once again.

So, the two Turners left the Empress and sat in the sand, watching it sail into the horizon. Elizabeth felt tears trailing down her cheeks and wiped away the matching drops from her son's face. But by mutual agreement, they began the trek back to their house beyond the cliff.

After all, they only had two months to get it ready for Will.


	4. Day 3,652

So, here is the fourth part of a series that I never meant to write, but just keeps on coming. I am pretty sure this is the end, and have posted it as such, but we'll see. I thought the first one was the end, too, so who knows.

I love feedback, and thanks to everyone who has written to me with comments, and to all of those who wanted more of this story.

**Day 3,652**

I've never seen Mother spend so much time with her maids. I swear, she's been in there forever.

At least since lunch. And I'm getting bored.

Mother said that I wasn't allowed outside today. She doesn't want me to dirty up my new clothes. So, I've been sitting in my room, staring out the window for hours.

I tried reading. I tried the marble game our old first mate taught me. I tried making up new verses to the pirate song. Captain Jack and I used to do that, but Mother made him stop when she heard one his verses. I still don't know who Scarlett is.

So, now I'm watching the sun go down. It is going really slow today. But sunset is about an hour away and I'm ready to go. Mother needs to hurry up.

And, of course, that's when she calls me down from my room. Time to go. I fly down the stairs and race to the back door, where I know she's waiting. I can hear Cook in the kitchen. I wonder what Mother has told her to make for tonight.

Wow. I've never seen Mother like this before. She never wears her hair down. Usually, she puts it in a braid that hangs long down her back. But today it is loose and really shiny. And her dress is new.

Mother is very pretty today. She smiles when I tell her so. And we set off. I get to meet Father today.

* * *

We are walking towards the cliff edge, where the path down to the beach begins. I am ahead of Mother but I can hear her walking behind me. I don't understand why she is going so slow.

I stop when she calls my name softly. She comes up behind me and smiles. Apparently, we're going to watch for the green flash from up here. I figured she'd want to be on the beach. That's fine, I'll wait now. But I already know that I'm not going to listen when she tells me to slow down when we walk down to the beach.

Mother smiles at me and rubs my shoulder. I think she thinks I'm nervous but I'm not. I am meeting Father today. I feel like I know everything about him, except what he looks like. And even with that, Mother says I look a lot like him. Mother always told me stories about Father and I'm not scared at all.

Last year, Mother gave me the sword. I found, carved on the underside of the cross-guard, in teeny-tiny writing, "For W & E, until we meet again."

Mother was so surprised when I showed it to her. In all the years she carried the sword, she never saw it. I like to think it was my own special message, since I'm the one that found it. But see, I already know that Father knows me. And he sent me the sword. _The_ sword. That's huge. He loves me; I didn't need Mother telling me that everyday to know it.

So, I'm definitely not scared. But I really wish the sun would hurry up and set.

Then, suddenly it does. There's the green flash. Mother's hand tightens on my shoulder and I hold my breath.

There's the ship.

We both scramble to the cliff path. Mother doesn't tell me to slow down. She's ahead of me the whole way. This is sure a day of firsts—I've never seen her go that fast.

She hits the beach at the same time Father does. Mother runs towards him, through the water. She's getting her new dress all wet. And I couldn't even go outside to play.

Father lifts her up and kisses her. They're kissing. A lot. I just look at my feet and keep running towards them. Don't need to see that.

When they hear me splashing behind them, Mother moves away and Father steps forward. I laugh, because he looks really scared. But I'm not scared and I keep running to him.

And then, for the first time, I feel my Father's arms around me. We don't let go for a very long time.

* * *

Mother has let me stay up much later than normal. We are gathered on our sitting room floor, next to the fire. Mother has her head on Father's shoulder and they are holding hands. I sit cross-legged in front of them, telling Father my stories. I made a list of all the things I wanted to tell him, so that I was prepared.

Father doesn't say much. He is just listening to me talk. I told him about the Empress and what a great ship she is. I told him how I snuck into Port Royal once when we were at port and walked around the fort with all of the soldiers. Mother interrupted me here and told me that I also should tell him about how I had to clean the galley for a month afterward.

I told him about the time that the Pirate Lord from Persia called for a new vote for Pirate King and how everyone but him voted for Mother. I was very proud of her. Father smiled and said he was very proud of her too.

When I dragged out my collection box, Mother smiled and shook her head. I've been keeping this box since I was five years old. I put all sorts of things in it. I showed Father the feather from South America. I don't know what kind of bird it was from, but it was a neat story; I stole it from another pirate's hat. Mother frowned. Oops. I forgot that I told her I found it in a shop. Father, however, laughed.

I took out my jars of sand, from every beach I've played on since I started the box. There is red sand, black sand, different kinds of white sand and even green sand. There is pink sand somewhere near home, but we weren't around the islands much, so I don't have that yet.

There was the piece-of-eight that I found while swimming on our beach, and the beads that I got during Carnivale in France. Mother wasn't too pleased, then, let me tell you. I had to scrub the decks for a week and Captain Jack says he still hasn't heard the end of it.

I took out the card deck that our first mate gave me. He taught me some games. Mother wasn't too happy about that, either. She said gentlemen didn't play cards. I showed Father the sleight-of-hand trick that I learned from Captain Jack; I think he had seen it, though. I told him how Mother taught me sums using shells and how I was just starting to get good at navigating by the stars. Captain Barbossa said that was good, since some compasses didn't point to anything anyway.

Father was starting to look sad and he let go of Mother's hand. He leaned forward and said softly, "Will, I am sorry that I haven't been here to see all of your adventures. I'm sorry that I couldn't teach you any of the things that you should have learned from me. But, I need you to know that I've thought of you everyday."

His eyes looked very gloomy and I could see a tear on Mother's cheek behind him. It was kind of funny, I thought. Of course he couldn't teach me stuff. If he had, he wouldn't be able to stay with us now. But, since he brought it up….

I ran out of the room without a word. I pounded upstairs to my bedroom and came running back down just as fast. I held the sword behind my back. Suddenly, I felt very shy.

"Father, do you think you could teach me how to swordfight? I haven't learned that yet."

He just looked at me, confused. I took the sword out and he went really white.

"I didn't…I never knew if you had found it," he said, his hands shaking.

Mother leaned forward, and took his hand. "He's carried it for a year now, but he turned everyone down when they offered to show him how to use it."

Father turned towards her, a slight smile on his lips. "Only a year? Where was it before that?"

Mother grinned, and there was another tear on her cheek. "With me, always," she said.

I cleared my throat and Father looked at me again. "You want me to teach you?"

I nodded then rushed on, "Unless you don't want to. Captain Jack said you might have forgotten how, since it's been so long and it's okay if you don't want to since I can probably find someone else to do it if you don't want to." It was all very fast.

Father raised his eyebrows while Mother laughed. "Jack said that, did he? Interesting." He reached for the sword. "Only one way to find out. You might not want me to teach you, if that's the case."

He took it out of the scabbard and it glinted in the firelight. Father examined it closely, flexing his fingers around the hilt. Mother grinned and I could see goosebumps rise on her arms. Funny. I had them too, and it wasn't even cold in here.

Father swung the sword in the air a couple times, and began to take some steps. He almost looked like he was dancing. "Still feels pretty good," he said, deliberating. I really, really hoped he hadn't forgotten.

Then, he flipped the sword by the blade with one finger. And caught it.

With one finger.

My eyes widened and I said one of those words that Mother said I wasn't allowed to say.

Wow. I am going to be a really great swordfighter one day.


	5. Life After Death

Well, another one hit me. I don't think it as strong as the others, but I certainly hope you enjoy it anyway. Thank you to everyone who continues to read my other stories and, especially, to those of you who tell me what you think, good and bad.

**Life After Death**

Jack rounded a bend in the wide dirt path and he could hear the pounding of a hammer echo against the cliff walls. As the house came into view, Jack stopped. For the first time since that far off day, Jack saw him. Will. The whelp of so many years ago, the pirate, the boy and the man all wrapped in one.

"How goes it, mate?" Jack asked, coming up quietly behind him, leaning curiously over Will's shoulder. Will jumped and turned to swing the hammer. Jack ducked just in time.

"Damn it, Jack!" But he was smiling. Will put his hand out and helped Jack off the ground.

"Still trying to get yourself killed, I see."

Jack gave a grouchy half smile as he firmly placed his hat back on his head. "Part of my charm."

Will grinned and just looked at him for a moment. Jack looked back expectantly.

"Need a drink?" Will asked, as if ten years had never passed.

"Thought you'd never ask, mate! Don't mind if I do."

He followed Will into the kitchen, looking around him warily. "And where is the devilish Captain Turner this fine morning?" he asked as casually as he could. There were just some things a man didn't recover from and the Locker was one. No qualms pirating with the girl, but he always remembered she was a pirate and a girl. Scary combination, that.

"Elizabeth and William are at the beach." That was all Will said as he gathered glasses and rum from the cabinet. Jack noticed the level in the bottle hadn't changed since his last visit and he grinned. Elizabeth was nothing if not true to her principles.

Will handed him his glass and sat across from him at the worn table. He still said nothing.

"Cat got your tongue, young William?" Jack asked. This was not the talkative, annoying, know-it-all Will of years before.

Will's smile was self-conscious. "Elizabeth asks the same thing. It's been a long time since I've been in talking society, Jack. Takes some getting used to."

"You've been back on dry land for three months, mate. Have you been letting _her_ talk your ear off all that time? I love the dulcet tones of a fine woman like the next man, but mate, there's only so much you can take."

Will smiled but didn't respond. He truly was a far more subdued version of his younger self. Jack wondered if it was age or experience that had changed him so.

"Well, mate, if you can stand her, you're welcome to her." He paused. "So why are you not on the beach with the lady, wading romantically through the warm, lapping waves?"

Across the table, Will looked uncomfortable as he took a swig from his rum. "There's work to do here."

"Work to do every where, mate. No reason to volunteer for it."

"Someone has to do it."

Jack put his feet up on the chair next to him and balanced precariously, tilting his chair back. He put his hands behind his head. "Suit yourself."

There was silence in the kitchen. Jack, who was never ill at ease unless death was imminent, had nearly fallen asleep when Will spoke. Damn the boy! This was the Will he remembered. No sense of timing whatsoever.

"I'm not sure what I'm doing here, Jack."

"I know you didn't do it much before, but it's called rum. Nice stuff, that."

"You know what I mean, Jack."

Jack peeked out of one eye and looked at Will. Sighing, he swung his feet off the chair and settled back. Loftily he said, "You've been sailing the seas for ten years. Sailing the guilty and the innocent to a fate beyond." Here Jack paused. "Have I mentioned how happy I am that I haven't had to lay eyes on you these last ten years?"

Will let out a puff of air that could have been a laugh. "I know what I've been doing. I don't know what I'm doing now."

"Living the fine, upstanding life of a father and husband. As horrible and reprehensible the thought is to me, I imagine it's right up your alley. Get on with it." He tried to return to his nap.

"What do you mean?"

Jack rolled his eyes, resigning himself to being forced awake. "You're here, hammering…things into things, when the wifey and young whelp are somewhere else. Now, I think that sounds like an excellent way to do things, but, let's be honest here, mate, you are definitely not Captain Jack Sparrow."

"Thank God for that," said Will with a hint his old sarcasm. Jack grinned.

"Couldn't agree more, mate. More rum?"

Pouring a healthy amount in to the glass, Jack stood up and began wandering around the kitchen. He rubbed a finger along a window sill and looked shocked at the dirt. "You need better maids."

Feeling pretty confident that any soot on Jack's hand had been there long before he entered the house, Will just shook his head with a smile.

"Now, let's see if we can figure out the problem. Power of speech seems to have disappeared but not everyone was as interested in what you had to say as you thought, so that isn't much of a hardship. At least not to the rest of us."

Jack swung around, waving a finger in Will's face. Will was scowling. "Issues in the bedroom, then, is it? Can't say as I blame you for that—she is a bit off-putting."

Will stood up, angry. Same old Jack. Jack dodged around him and continued his inventory of the kitchen.

"Well, if that's not it, then you're on your own, mate. Ten years is a long time. Maybe your bonnie lass doesn't hold your heart strings anymore?"

Will swung at him with a strong fist. Jack ducked as quickly as he had earlier and grinned. "Guess that's not it, then."

Fiercely quiet, Will said, "She's always held my heart. Literally. That won't change."

Jack looked him over and waved his hands as if dismissing the concept. "Right then. To each their own. You got me, mate. I'm out of ideas."

Sitting back down, Will looked at him seriously. "I don't know how to talk to them, Jack. Do you have any idea what it was like on that ship for ten years? Don't get me wrong, I'd do it for a thousand if it meant coming home to her at the end, but now that I'm here….I don't know what to do. They have these amazing things to share with me, that I've missed. What can I say to them in return? It's not exactly a fairy story."

"More to life than death, mate. I'd think you of all people would know that."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you're here, hammering things into things, while the whelp and wife are somewhere else."

Jack finally slunk back into his seat and propped his feet up on the chair, determined now to get his nap. Will just watched him.

Will was gone when Jack woke up a few hours later. After pulling himself up from his tipped chair, Jack made a beeline for the door. He intended to be in port for only a little longer—the Pearl was to dock soon and he had a ship to steal. As he made his way back down the dirt road, feet leading him faithfully to the tavern, he could hear three laughing voices making their way back up the beach path.

Jack stopped to listen for a moment, and then shook his head, baffled. There was no accounting for taste in this world.

Finis


End file.
